


Crowley's Pet

by supremeleadershitlord



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Ownership
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21724609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supremeleadershitlord/pseuds/supremeleadershitlord
Summary: This is an ask I received on tumblr and part of the Crowley Wars with thotful-writingYou're Crowley's human pet, sitting in his lap in the throne room and another demon makes a remark about you.
Relationships: Crowley (Supernatural)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 77





	Crowley's Pet

Being Crowley’s pet has its perks. You don’t have to worry about money, a job, housing, or any of the other stress inducing human things. He takes care of your needs and protects you, it’s a pretty good arrangement. The downside? Demons. Demons all the time, around every corner, interrupting at the most inopportune times, and looking at you like a toy they want to rip apart like an animal.

Crowley runs his hand slowly up and down your thigh while he looks over a list attached to his clipboard. He has you in his lap on the throne while he finishes up a few things. He lets out a heavy sigh and you know he’s mentally exhausted from the busy day he has had.

You move your hand over his chest and up to his cheek to gently scratch his beard. He leans into your touch but doesn’t turn his attention to you.

He’s the King of Hell and you’re only a human. There’s still an element of fear when it comes to asking for what you want out of fear of seeming too needy. One snap of his fingers and you would be dead. You move your hand from his face to the side of his neck and lean in to kiss his cheek.

“Am I not giving you enough attention, love?” He finally asks, raising an eyebrow but still not looking up at you.

“You’ve been working all day, you need a break,” you whisper between kisses down his neck. Crowley tucks the clipboard at his side, wedged between his hip and the arm of the chair.

“You have my full attention, darling,” he smiles and leans in to kiss you. Just before his lips meet yours, a knock at the door stops him.

“Can we ignore it, daddy?” You ask, hopeful he’ll pull you close and pretend there was no interruption.

“I won’t let this take long,” he promises, his voice low as he rests the tip of his index finger under your chin. You pout but give him a small nod. It’s common to get interrupted by demons throughout the day. It’s one of the most difficult aspects of being in a relationship with the King of Hell, he’s perpetually busy.

“Come in,” Crowley announces to whoever is on the other side of the door. Two of his newer henchmen, Damien and Killian, enter the room. Damien is in his usual leather jacket and jeans and Killian is in an expensive black suit. Their attire is so drastically different and matches their personalities so well it’s almost comical.

“Ahh, you’re back. Has our little problem been taken care of?” Crowley asks, running his hand up your inner thigh. You shift in his lap and kiss his cheek while you gently scratch his beard.

“Partially, I killed one of the hunters,” Damien begins, crossing his arms as his eyes move down your body, “Killian had some… performance issues.”

“A little stage fright?” Crowley finally looks up to find Killian glaring at Damien. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other and refuses to make direct eye contact with Crowley.

“No-”

“Then what? Perhaps a soft spot for the humans?”

“Of course not, I would never lower myself,” Killian declares, his eyes settling on you with a look of disgust. He is insufferable even by demon standards.

"Are you suggesting our King has lowered himself?” Damien smirks as he gives Killian a sideways glance.

He stumbles on his words when he realizes how that must’ve sounded to Crowley considering you’re sitting in his lap. A human that he openly cares for and treats better than most of his demons.

“Crowley, I didn’t mean that-”

Crowley puts his hand up to silence him before he can spew what is sure to be an insincere apology. He shifts you on his lap, turning you towards the two demons standing before him.

“Not to worry, I have a three strike rule when it comes to new demons. However, I suggest you tread carefully, you have two strikes against you already,” Crowley warns in a calm voice.

“Yes, sir. My deepest apologies, I wasn’t implying you’ve lowered yourself. I was just merely voicing my displeasure in dealing with the humans,” Killian replies, slowly regaining his composure. Damien looks thoroughly amused by the situation because he can see exactly where it’s headed.

“Stop using your tongue as shovel to dig that hole deeper,” Damien says under his breath as he shakes his head.

“Tell me, Killian. Do you have a problem with my pet?” Crowley asks, caressing your cheek as you stare back at them with the most innocent look you can manage.

“I- n-no, of course not,” he stammers.

“Lying will not be tolerated in my house!” Crowley shouts, his voice echoing through the room. You jump slightly at his sudden outburst despite knowing it was going to happen and he rubs your back to calm your nerves.

“Do you know what your first two strikes were?”

Killian shifts in place and clasps his hands together. “Failure to capture and kill the hunter and my comment about humans.”

“Is that really how you view your King? Unreasonable and inflexible?” Crowley snaps, growing more annoyed by the second.

“No, sir-”

“I didn’t expect you to kill that hunter on your first outing and I can forgive hating humans, many of them are terrible. I gave you two strikes because you came into my house and looked at my pet the wrong way,” he growls. It’s terrifying and hot at the same time when he gets this angry.

“I’m sor-”

Crowley snaps his fingers and all that’s left is a big gray cloud next to Damien.

“Damien, be a darling and take care of that other hunter.” Crowley waves his hand to dismiss him and pulls you back against his chest.

“Now, where were we, love?” He whispers in your ear, his beard rubbing against your skin. His hand moves down your side and slips between your thighs, rubbing you through your jeans.

“Did you really kill him because of me?” The thought of such a dangerous being killing one of his own for you sends a surge of excitement through your body. He kisses your cheek and moves a hand up your chest to grip your throat.

“I protect what’s mine, darling.”


End file.
